


Melting

by imperfekti



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-27 05:28:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20943011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperfekti/pseuds/imperfekti
Summary: Inspired by Shinteni's October chapters (276-278). A small story of QP practicing as a child.





	Melting

Swish, swish, swish…

There were no other sounds on the remote corner of the German Tennis Academy facilities but those of a broom clearing out snow.

It had snowed again during the night.

The other kids had started taking all of their lessons indoors a couple of months ago. One new member of the staff had tried persuading QP to do the same, but with no success.

This was the second winter he was practicing outside even in the coldest time of the year. Last winter, he hadn’t become sick even once, so by now, the regular staff had left him alone. Eventually, the new one had done the same.

It took a while to get the court to a playable condition, but QP didn’t mind. The coach had recently left behind a broom that was small enough for him to handle easily, along with a note saying to enjoy it as warm-up practice.

The sun was already well on its way over the treetops when the court was ready. Normally QP liked to get started a lot sooner, but when it was cold like this, no one would usually bother him out here.

Having set aside the broom, QP took up his racket and a ball. By now he was already accustomed to handling them with gloves on. He had tried playing without them at first, but the cold had been too much and his practice had been cut too short. He would rather play longer and focus. Once you got used to the change in the grip, it wasn’t so bad.

He got started.

One, two, three, four, five…

By now it was easy enough up until thirteen, but that’s where it got harder. Catching the return from thirteen, high up on the right side of the wall, and then getting a clean shot to the small circle of fourteen was something that he still failed sometimes. And since he always started again right from the beginning, he wasn’t getting as much practice with fifteen, sixteen and seventeen yet.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven…

He got up to sixteen a few times. 

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine…

Underhand serve. Hit to the middle. Hit high to the right. Middle again. Right side. Forehand to left side, run after it, backhand.

He got to sixteen again, but the ball didn’t hit seventeen.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven…

He had hit seventeen before, but it was it not working out today.

Was he trying to hit it from a bad position? Was there a way to get the ball to bounce back from sixteen at an easier angle? 

He kept trying.

… fourteen, fifteen, sixteen.

Maybe if he just shifted the angle of the racket a bit for the last shot? 

… fourteen, fifteen, sixteen.

Or if he tried putting more spin on the ball?

… fourteen, fifteen, sixteen.

Or if he backed down during the previous shots, then hit the ball harder so it would return to back court, and aim carefully from there?

… fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen.

Finally.

When QP went to pick up the ball he had let fly past him, he noticed the sun was already high, and that he was hungry. The others would probably have their lunch around an hour from now. He had better hurry back and get his meal from the canteen before the others got there and made it noisy.

But he had only hit the target once today. He would have to do better tomorrow.

QP put his racket into his backpack, and leaving it on the bench for a while, went for the usual routine.

Snow had gathered by the root of the tree, so QP reached the seesaw easily now. But when he attempted to shift down his side of the toy with a gloved finger, rushing a bit, unexpectedly the bird didn’t move.

Huh?

There was snow on the toy, too, today.

There was no helping it.

QP started wiping out the snow. As he did, the seesaw remained as it was, tipped to the left.

Once had finished scratching off the loose snow, he could see why. Under the white frost, ice had formed on the coach’s side of the seesaw, and it had gotten stuck.

Had it been warm enough yesterday to actually melt the snow, only to freeze back during the night? QP wasn’t sure, he hadn’t been out since the morning.

He tried poking at the ice, but it was too tight, and it seemed like he might break the toy if he put too much force on the wrong spot.

He looked around a bit, but couldn’t come up with anything he could use to remove the ice cleanly.

He was really getting hungry, and cold. Should he just leave it today? He hadn’t done so great with seventeen, after all.

But no - he had managed to hit it. And there was a way.

Even on top of the pile of snow, he still had to get on his toes, lean his body against the tree and stretch his neck to get close enough.

He took a big breath, and exhaled warm air on the bird.

One, two, three, four, five…

Eventually, the ice started to melt.


End file.
